


Red Velvet

by literallyjohnwatson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-04 00:11:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literallyjohnwatson/pseuds/literallyjohnwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Research for a case requires Sherlock to wear a shocking shade of red lipstick, and John finds he wants to see it on places other than Sherlock's mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Velvet

**Author's Note:**

> There's really no excuse for this, it's blatant porn. These are the things that go through my head when I happen to wear lipstick.

“Sherlock, what—what is that? Are you putting on _lipstick_?” John crooked his eyebrow about as just as far as it would go as he punctuated the last word of the question.

He’d walked into the flat with a bag of groceries, began unconsciously putting them away, and asked Sherlock if he’d eaten yet today. He wasn’t surprised when the man didn’t answer, but his curiosity was aroused when he spotted him standing in front of the mirror with a small object in his hand. When he’d seen the unmistakable flash of red dancing across Sherlock’s face, he confirmed it to be indeed a tube of lipstick.

“I need to test how long-lasting it is. An essential clue that will either lead to a young woman’s innocence or arrest,” he replied stoically, though his shuffling feet betrayed his slight embarrassment.

“Sherlock,” John began, trying to stifle his rising giggles. Sherlock turned around, and when John drank in the full sight of him his giggles were caught in his throat. As he swallowed them down they began to pool into arousal instead.

The bright, lustrous red stood out stark against the pale skin, the already full lips appearing more buxom than normal. Sherlock bore a slightly bashful expression, his eyebrows drawn in subtly, giving him a vulnerable appearance.

John gulped.

Sherlock immediately read him like a book, the corners of his mouth quirking in amusement. He realized he’d actually drawn a strong hand and intended to play it for all it was worth. He took several languid steps towards John.

“You find it arousing,” Sherlock drawled. It wasn’t a question.

“Uh…” was all John could manage, as his mind seemed to be better put to use imagining all the places on his body that that lipstick might be able to rub off on.

Sherlock curved his hand around the side of John’s cheek and drew him in close, tilting his chin up. John thought his knees might give out as Sherlock’s breath ghosted his mouth. Sherlock gave a throaty chuckle before closing the space between them, pressing his painted lips onto John’s.

John was surprised at how much of an effect a variable so small as the lipstick had on him. The kiss started out slow and searching; at first their lips only colliding repeatedly, eventually their mouths parting, tongues eagerly probing. He could feel the stickiness of the lipstick smearing across both their faces, a sensation he normally associated with females. Pairing it with the firm, familiar feel of Sherlock—stubble rubbing against stubble, the taste of honey and the smell of musk—made John’s head spin. Caught up in the mingling impressions, John snaked a hand through Sherlock’s dense curls, reeling him in and continuing to kiss him with increasing aggression.

Sherlock pulled away after a while for the sole reason that both of them were panting, each struggling to catch their breath in the midst of their heavy petting.

Their foreheads pressed together while John pecked a few more desperate kisses on Sherlock before moving back to examine him fully.

“Damn,” was all he could whisper huskily. Sherlock’s hair was mussed; the carefully colored lips were smudged across the canvas of Sherlock’s face, the pink hues echoing the blush now daubing his cheeks. His mouth was open, inhaling deeply, and John could feel his chest quickly rising and falling against his own. Swallowing, he shifted uncomfortably and could feel his arousal pooling at his groin.

Sherlock looked absolutely, deliciously debauched.

Before John could take any more time to appreciate the sight, their mouths were pressed together once more and he could taste the bitter flavor of the lipstick on his tongue. He felt himself being persuaded backwards, and letting Sherlock do the navigating, found himself being thoroughly snogged into his armchair.

He welcomed the weight of Sherlock’s form on his own, and the pressure of his hips drew John’s attention to his erection—both their erections. John let out little moans every time Sherlock shifted, but they were stifled by the crash of their mouths.

Even with his eyes closed, John could feel Sherlock smirk mischievously against his mouth before moving down to his neck, biting and sucking, surely leaving delicious crimson streaks all about John’s skin.

“God, Sherlock,” John hissed, his hands trailing the back of his neck, urging him on. Sherlock hummed lowly in reply, making John jerk when a hand found its way down to cup him through his trousers.

John arched his hips, wanting more pressure, more friction. He could feel Sherlock grinning again. He could also feel the nimble fingers expertly skirting over his fly and creeping into his pants. Sherlock’s skin was cool to the touch but he relished it all the same, groaning in anticipation. Wrenching down John’s trousers and pants with a few swift jerks, Sherlock exposed his cock to the open air.

“Sherlock, please.” As Sherlock pulled away from John’s neck and he could clearly see his decorated mouth again, there was only one place he wanted it to go.

“I know what you want,” Sherlock taunted playfully, sliding himself down the length of John’s body. John threw his head back and exhaled deeply, then adjusted himself in the chair and looked down at Sherlock who was poised and ready, his hands gripping and spreading John’s thighs.

Not breaking eye contact, Sherlock reached into his pocket and withdrew the small tube of lipstick, carelessly tossing the cap aside as he twisted it up. Blindly he applied a fresh coat, the borders of the color haphazardly extending past his lips.

John couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sensual red of his lover’s mouth, mirroring the color of his own cock flushed with arousal. He watched astutely as Sherlock lowered his head and gave a few lazy strokes of his tongue across the head of his prick, his lips not yet making contact. He hissed at the sensation, but he wanted Sherlock to drag his mouth across him, to mark him with crimson, to claim him as his own.

Sherlock could be such a fucking tease.

Sherlock pursed his lips and slid them over the head, one hand firmly gripping the shaft. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked and swirled his tongue, and John moaned and bucked, wanting more, wanting it all.

Withdrawing, Sherlock flicked his tongue over his lips before plunging down quickly, taking a considerable amount in, before backtracking painfully slow, letting John watch a trail of red being dragged up his cock.

“Fuck, that’s beautiful,” John gasped, his voice low and gravelly. Sherlock steadied himself, anchoring one hand on John’s thigh and wrapping the other one around the base of his cock. His mouth sank over John repeatedly, tongue flicking across the glans every chance it got. “Yes, God, Sherlock…”

Instinctively John’s hand snaked down to cling on to a fistful of thick hair, urging Sherlock to go on. Sherlock’s dark hair and light skin had practically begged to be complimented by the shocking red, and as he watched the full lips work over his cock it seemed unnatural that he’d never worn the lipstick before.

Removing his hand, Sherlock sank down over John fully, swallowing around his cock and making small gagging noises, saliva gathering slightly at the corners of his mouth. John couldn’t contain himself and he used the grip he had in Sherlock’s hair to guide him down farther, and Sherlock didn’t protest. He worked into John’s coaxing and picked up his pace, mouth slowly acclimating to the fullness.

As John watched Sherlock’s red mouth, slick with spit, continue to defile his prick with color, he felt the pressure in his stomach rise, the familiar feeling of a gathering orgasm.

“Don’t stop,” he choked, fingers still harshly gripping Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock silently obeyed, his strokes not faltering, continuing to send waves of pleasure up John’s spine.

He felt Sherlock’s nails digging into his thigh and his toes began to curl, his breathing heavy and labored. Throwing his head back with a strangled cry, he came down Sherlock’s throat, tilting and jerking and bucking his hips. Sherlock continued to suck, softening his grip with John’s falling orgasm.

John resettled in his chair, making sure to watch Sherlock’s mouth slide sinfully off his cock, a string of saliva still connecting them.

Giving his lips a tantalizing lick, Sherlock gave John a good looking-over, eyes dragging across his rouged cock. He put on a devilish grin and said, “This lipstick was not as long lasting as I had previously anticipated. I fear my young lady is indeed guilty.”

John gave an equally playful smirk as he thought about what he could do to wipe Sherlock’s off his face.

Though he wasn’t in any hurry to wipe off the lipstick


End file.
